The Truth Will Out
by Willowsticks
Summary: Set after the end of Series Two. Richard has returned to the island and he and Camille have started a relationship, and are doing their best to keep it secret from everyone - especially Catherine.
1. Chapter 1

It had started with a text. Camille was totally oblivious of the chain of events she put in place when she left her iphone on the bar alongside her bag while she had visited the bathroom. But as fate would have it, it vibrated almost as soon as she was out of sight, the phone dancing its customary jig as it skipped its way across the bar, drawing attention to the message that had just been sent, its face lighting up at the knowledge that it had done its job correctly.

It was also fate that her mother had been standing near enough to the phone for it to catch her eye and, although she hadn't meant to read the message, it had been short enough for her to do so at a glance.

_Home, courtesy of an earlier ferry. What time can you get away? R_

Catherine wasn't a nosy woman by nature, she was happy for everyone to keep their own council and make their own mistakes, who was she to judge them after all. But she found herself reading the missive again to make sure that her eyes hadn't been playing tricks on her. It seemed innocuous enough, after all there was no flirting or affection, there hadn't even been a kiss at the end of it. It could be as innocent as him inviting her to catch up with police work after his time away. But something about it niggled at her. The message was almost needy in its nature, promised something in its tone, spoke of the existence of emotions that she hadn't yet grasped. She was about to dismiss it, to turn away, when the screen lit up again for a second time.

_Ps I've missed you x_

If the first message could have been misconstrued, then the second was unmistakeable in its meaning. Biting back a smile she turned her back on the phone, not wanting to be caught prying and busied herself with the rearranging the glasses, waiting for her daughter to return.

She felt that the pieces of a jigsaw were finally sliding into place. She had suspected for some time now that things had changed between them. Oh, they still argued as much as ever, but lately it had seemed like a charade, a carefully constructed rouse designed to play to people's expectations and perceptions of their usual behaviour. There was less aggravated tension, less exasperation towards each other. And if you watched the two of them together you could often see a glimpse of something deeper that they shared. At first she had thought it had meant that they were finally putting their differences behind them, becoming friends, building a stronger team through mutually shared trust, respect and understanding. But as time went on, and they still insisted on their play arguments, she began to think that a different game was afoot.

Catherine smiled again thinking about the text. Well, she was happy for them. She wondered how long they had been seeing each other whilst idly polishing the glasses in front of her, and then stopped abruptly.

Richard was quite possibly the most unsentimental man she had ever met. His lack of tact and charm was legendary on the island and he found it difficult to manage even the simplest of courtesies without offending people. Socially inept, she believed was the correct term. It was true, she was fond of him, although she would never let him know that fact. But she imagined that for him to have sent a text telling her daughter that he missed her, then he must be suitably smitten.

So how long did an emotionally reserved man (to say the least) take to become smitten, or indeed comfortable enough to tell someone that he was smitten? Weeks? Months? She suddenly came to the realisation that their relationship, whatever it was, was no fledgling affair, but in all probability something of substance for both of them.

So why hadn't Camille told her? They were close, had always confided to each other about everything that mattered and most things that didn't. They'd had to. They were the only family the other had and since her husband had left, Catherine had played the difficult part of being both parent and friend. She had known about every one of her daughter's previous relationships, had held her in her arms when they had broken down and counselled her when she had needed advice. She knew about her daughter's love life in more detail than perhaps was normal for a mother. So why was Camille hiding this from her?

She had a feeling that it was because of Richard. He hated attention of any sort, none more so than that of a personal nature. Had he insisted on them keeping it quiet? She thought about it and decided that that was likely. She could imagine he would be embarrassed by the island gossip that would accompany the union of one of their own with such a staid and uptight Englishman. He would prefer to be left alone, without the scrutiny of her friends and their colleagues. She imagined that he would be flustered by the idle chatter of people discussing their odd pairing, the insinuations and banter he would incur when people playfully mentioned their sex life. Oh goodness, she wondered what their sex life was like. She had always thought...No. She squashed that thought instantly. Best not to go there...

Before she could dedicate any more time to the subject she heard Camille sit back down on the stool behind her. She realised that her current thoughts had furrowed her brow so rearranged her features to something she hoped was more relaxed, turned around and smiled brightly.

"What are you up to for the weekend ma cherie?"

"Oh nothing really. I thought that I might just go to the beach and relax, I'm not sleeping well at the moment."

"Richard's coming back tonight isn't he?" She was probing gently, "why don't you show him a little more of the island?"

Camille thought about this, "I suppose I could do, but he's getting the late ferry and will probably be tired. Besides, you know he hates being a tourist. He'd much rather stay at home reading. Honestly Maman he can be so boring sometimes."

Catherine laughed to herself at Camille's rather obvious attempt to make her believe that she didn't enjoy his company. She had seen them alone together at the bar too often when the rest of the team had gone home for her to truly believe that. She was also rather pleased that her little trap had been so easy to lay. Now all she had to do was spring it.

"I think I heard your phone buzz, ma cherie," Catherine said innocently, watching as Camille picked up her phone, scrutinizing her for any flicker of emotion on her daughters face as she read the messages. But there was nothing.

"Who was it?"

"Richard."

Catherine was a little surprised – she hadn't thought it was going to be this easy. Perhaps Camille had been waiting for the right time to talk to her about this new relationship.

Camille continued, "he's still stuck on Guadeloupe – he wants me to feed Harry this evening." She looked her mother dead in the eye and Catherine found herself more than a little hurt by her daughters barefaced lie.

"Oh." Then, "well we still have some time before you have to go don't we? Do you want another drink?"

"No, thank you Maman, its nearly 8. Harry always gets fed at 6, I should go." And with that, Camille jumped down from the stool, picked up her things and walked coolly out of the bar blowing her customary two kisses to her mother behind her as she left.

And all Catherine could think of was that maybe Camille was as smitten as Richard was.

Later, however after she had time to give the matter more thought, she decided to call Commissioner Patterson. It was a short phone call and a sweet one, at least to her mind. Clearing his throat with a small cough, the Commissioner had simply stated that he couldn't discuss the personal lives of two of his officers. It was all she needed as confirmation that the two of them were indeed in a relationship, she knew Selwyn well enough that he would have told her the truth if there was nothing going on. She could feel the beginnings of a plan coming on. She didn't want to meddle but she was annoyed that Richard was hiding their relationship.

Well, if he wanted to be single then Catherine was going to treat him that way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Just building the scene a little more...**

It was after Camille had practically run towards the shack on the beach, wrapped her arms around Richard, laughingly kissed him as she pulled him down on to the bed and made love to him, that she had turned to him and said, "Did you really miss me?"

She was lying in the crook of his shoulder, his arm curled around her body, and up into her hair which his hand was stroking absentmindedly. The earlier haze of sex was still hanging over both of them and Richard felt totally at peace. Nevertheless he looked perplexed by her question. "Of course I did. Why would you need to ask something like that?"

Camille looked abashed that she could still be so unsure of herself with him, felt the need to analyse everything that he did. "It's just the first time you've ever written anything like that and I was wondering if you actually meant it or if you just thought it would be nice for me to read."

He mulled her question over a bit. "A bit of both I suppose. I mean, I felt it and then I thought that I should probably tell you. Does it matter? I have said it to you before..."

"Yes, but you haven't ever written it Richard." The calm that had hung between them only moments before was now threatening to change into something more ominous; she tried to lighten the mood, and ran her fingers lightly over his chest to calm him down. "What did you miss about me?"

He shrugged "I don't know," then glanced at her, saw the look that she was giving him and realised that she had been hoping for something a little more romantic. He tried again, "I suppose just everything." Her eyes willed him to go on. He was feeling self conscious now, "um, just little things, you know, like um, your swim things being hung out to dry everywhere, or the way you kiss me to stop me rambling on about something, or the fact that my razor blade is blunt because you've used it to do your legs." He felt her shift uncomfortably in his arms and looked at her fondly, "yes Camille I actually know that you do that..." She gave an embarrassed sort of smile, knew that she'd been caught out by him and wriggled her way closer, content in the knowledge that as long as he could feel her bare skin on his then he could probably forgive her anything.

He sighed and ploughed on, even though he didn't particularly want to. "I know it sounds stupid but I suppose I just miss the things that make me realise I'm not on my own any more. I just miss _you_ and I'm sorry that I don't tell you all of this stuff or write it down. I just never think that it matters. Does that bother you?" He was worried that he had upset her.

Despite the grin on face she answered, "I don't know." And she genuinely didn't. Their relationship was like nothing like any she had experienced before. She loved it when he was open with her, knew that he found it an effort to talk to her about his feelings, and he _was _getting better at it, but the fact still remained that the other men in her life had always been more open, more candid with their emotions – they had never had to be prompted to share anything. She found it hard to understand his reticence to talk to her about how he felt, was still unsure if she needed more reassurance from him about their togetherness than his words gave her – how hard was it to write something down for God's sake, to send a text to tell her he missed her not because he thought that it was the right thing to do!

They had already had an awkward conversation about using kisses at the end of text messages. She had felt pathetic asking him why he didn't do it, asking him to start. But it had made her feel that she belonged to him more, happier that their relationship was adhering to the normal conventions of romance. Pathetic really that a single letter of the alphabet could make her feel more in love, but there it was. He of course had scoffed at this, had said that while she wanted them to stay under the radar they shouldn't be sending texts, but had done it anyway to make her happy. After all, they had already cleared their relationship with the commissioner, so if the others found out it wouldn't be the end of the world.

As if reading her thoughts he asked, "would you like me to write you a love letter to prove to you that I'm not completely dead inside?"

She picked up one of the pillows and hit him with it. "Don't be ridiculous." Then said to herself that if he were to write her a love letter she didn't want it to be because she had asked him to do it. Surely he must know that, idiot though he was?

She got lost in her own world for a moment imagining him inundating her with letters, flowers, candle lit dinners, all the trimmings of a Hollywood romance and came to with a jolt to find him facing her.

"What's really bothering you Camille?"

She didn't want to lie. He probably wouldn't have noticed if she had done, his emotions weren't that in tune with hers yet and she knew _that_ was going to be a long learning curve between them, but she wanted to get this off her chest. "I don't know." She paused. "I think it's Maman. I think she knows"

"About us?" She nodded. "And that's a problem?" He went along with her decision even though he couldn't understand her reticence to tell her mother about them.

"I'm not sure. Not exactly. But if she does know, then what must she think of us? Of me?" The words had come out of her mouth in a rush before she had had a chance to temper them into something more tactful. She hadn't even meant them in the way that she knew he would take them. She looked at him quickly trying to assess the damage that they had just done. Too late. She could see that they had hit home. His jaw had slackened and his eyes were dull. He looked numb.

"Are you embarrassed by me?" His voice was quiet and he felt slightly sick.

"Oh God Richard, that's not what I meant."

"Right." He was nodding his head, putting a brave face on. Then trying to get out of bed, "I think, um...I think I need a shower." But he was caught in the sheet and his legs didn't seem to work properly.

"Richard, please...let me explain." She was scrambling at him, had caught his hand, trying desperately to stop him from getting out of bed. He had managed to swing his legs out from the tangled mess of linen and instead of wrenching his hand away from her, sat on the edge with his back towards her, waiting patiently for her to continue.

"I just meant that you are not the type of man I usually go for." She saw his back sag again and realised that she had just made things worse. "Oh God I'm not explaining this very well." She sighed, impatient with herself and tried again, "Maman is more used to me being with someone a little more open, more relaxed; someone who likes dancing for example, or will kiss me or hold my hand in front of her and not get embarrassed." He was still nodding his head forlornly. "When she finds out about us, she's going to wonder how on earth I fell in love with you."

"Yes it's a mystery to us all." His voice was hard and he made to get up again. She kept hold of him and slid across the bed, her legs dangling off the edge next to his.

"Richard please, I'm saying this from her point of view, not mine. I fell in love with _you_. That's all that matters to me. You're all that matters to me. My other relationships don't matter; they never mattered because they were never right for me. You _are_ right for me. It's just a case of explaining that to my mother and trying to make her understand that everything she has known about me for the past twenty years is wrong. That's why I don't want to tell her. I don't want her to give me one of those ridiculous looks that says: "well you know best," when she's thinking the opposite, because I know that I _do_ know best. Because I have you."

She had climbed into his lap. Her naked limbs folded up against his chest, her hands clinging on to his neck, her forehead against his cheek. He remained resolutely still, staring ahead. She was imploring him: "I'm sorry I hurt you, I didn't mean to. Don't...don't leave me. I just want you to hold me. Please Richard."

He sighed. Braced her shoulders against one arm and looped his other underneath her legs. He picked her up and placed her back on to the bed, kissed her forehead and walked around to the other side, the side where his clothes were. "No...Richard, please." She was pleading with him, thought that he was leaving her there alone. To her utter relief, he climbed back into bed next to her.

They sat side by side in silence, each one not daring to reach out for the other, too afraid of being rejected. He had been amazed when he had first discovered that under all that bravado, Camille was terrified of being left alone, he had been even more astounded to discover that it had related directly to him. He had no idea how to tell her that he would never leave her, that she could have committed every crime or sin possible and that he would love just the same, but every time he tried to tell her that, his words failed him, just as they were doing now.

He stared at the rumpled sheet for a while, gathering his thoughts, frantically trying to think of something to say that would make her understand. When he finally spoke, he was talking to his lap, looking embarrassed. "I don't actually mind dancing, you know." She looked at him in amazement, but before she could ask him any questions he continued "just not to your music."

She could have cried with the sheer fact that he wasn't angry or hurt or upset, or any of the other emotions that she knew she would be feeling right now if the tables had been turned. But knew that would flummox him completely, so instead asked, "what type of music?"

"Oh I don't know. I mean I tried the clubbing thing a couple of times a while ago, well a long time ago now. It's not really dancing though is it, more just jumping around and I am definitely too old to do that now – not that it was ever really my thing." He glared at her as she stifled a snigger, the thought of him enjoying a night out, even when he was 20 was simply too much to bear. He continued, "And from what I've seen of Caribbean music it's just basically people grinding against each other on the dance floor with their clothes on, not something any middle aged white man should be taking part in."

She couldn't contain her laughter at this as she added "I don't know, you seemed to enjoy the first part earlier..."

He ignored her, before she made him lose his train of thought completely and decided to cut to the chase. "Jazz. I like jazz. It's got a good rhythm and it's easy to dance to. So I suppose, you know, that...that would be my thing now."

That caught her attention. "You never told me," her mind was racing and she was already imagining them on a night out.

"No. Well, I never really realised how desperate you were to go dancing. There also don't appear to be any jazz clubs on the island, well not any I think we should probably frequent – I've already checked."

"You checked? Did you want to take me on a date?" He looked ridiculously pleased with himself, as he nodded. She moved closer and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled shyly at her. She moved to his lips and kissed him lingeringly before mischievously planting a kiss on the end of his nose. He stared at her, not quite believing that something so innocent was capable of giving him so much pleasure, and gave her a delighted smile. He looked so sweet that she giggled and kissed him again.

When Camille eventually broke the kiss, Richard felt the loss of her lips against his keenly. He tried to pull her closer again, when she looked at him and said defiantly, "We should dance now."

"Here?"

You have music don't you?

"I suppose so but...what are you doing?" Camille was already out of bed and rummaging through his CD's.

"You know that you are ridiculously out of touch with these things," she said waving them at him," before selecting one and putting it on. "Why don't you own an Ipod?" She started swaying to the music.

She had danced her way back over to the bed; a grin plastered on her face and was reaching out for his hands, dragging a protesting Richard to his feet.

"Camille, we're both naked!"

She teased, "oh my goodness, you're right, quick don't look while I try and find some shoes..."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "That's not funny. What if someone comes in and sees us like this?" She wasn't sure who on earth would want to barge in on them, and they had been naked for almost the entire evening already without anything embarrassing happening, so she decided to take no notice of his last comment.

He was still complaining as he gathered her left hand in his right, pulling her close to his chest and placing his other arm on her back, while she wrapped her free arm around his neck. They stood like that letting the music wash over them dancing cheek to cheek in time to the music.

"This is not what I had in mind when I said I didn't mind dancing Camille," he whispered into her ear.

"Why not?" she feigned innocence.

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the smell of her hair, "One: this isn't really dancing. And two: I can't concentrate when you're naked." She giggled, as his hand trailed down to the small of her back, tantalisingly close to the cleft of her bottom. She could already feel the reason for his lapse in concentration pressing against her. "And this is a very sentimental track for our first dance."

"I thought it was a classic?"

"It is" he replied. "It just seems a shame that we won't see it through to the end," and with that his left hand finally lost its pretence at propriety as it roamed down further still and he pulled her back to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**My thanks to KateDF for being gracious enough to allow certain elements of this chapter to overlap with her own...**

It was a few days later and the team was in the bar enjoying a drink, discussing the day's activities when Catherine decided it was time to implement her plan. Dwayne and Fidel had managed to apprehend someone making a run for it earlier in the day and Camille was gently teasing Richard: "You didn't even bother to try and get in on the action..."

He was making a game go of defending himself when he replied, "I didn't see what the point would have been. I would only have been in the way."

She raised an eyebrow. "You mean it was too hot to go running?"

"Quite." He made no attempt to lie drawing a smile from her.

"Perhaps if you took off your suit you would find it easier to join in the thrill of the chase..." he smiled at this last phrase, knew how much she had enjoyed the flirting between them before they had got together, her own version of the chase as she had reeled him in.

"I don't think so Camille," Fidel chipped in, "you see the English don't run, do they Sir." He was being uncharacteristically cheeky when he turned to Richard for clarification.

Richard sat there and didn't answer, just smiled to himself.

Catherine had been listening in to their last conversation and was on her way over to deliver more drinks when she cut in, "but Richard does go running." Dwayne and Fidel looked at her gobsmacked while Richard looked momentarily flabbergasted. She pretended she hadn't seen their goldfish like mouths and sallied on, "don't be so shy Richard, I've seen you running early in the morning."

Fidel somehow managed to pull himself together first in time to ask what both he and Dwayne had been thinking, "You go running in the mornings Sir? Before work? How early do you get up?"

Richard had still lost the power of speech and was looking pretty embarrassed by this revelation so Catherine continued "I see him at about 6.30." She nudged him, "come on Richard why don't you tell them?"

He managed to recover the power of speech just enough to stammer out a sentence. "Um...well, it's too hot during the day to do anything, so um, sometimes I go running before the sun has any heat." He really wished that everyone would stop looking at him. Well not everyone was looking at him - just Dwayne Fidel and Catherine. Camille was making a concerted effort to look at everything else except him. She knew he hated being the centre of attention and if she caught his eye would have dissolved into giggles. It didn't help matters that she was also remembering the first time she had caught him sneaking out into the dawn, laughing at his embarrassment at being seen by her for the first time in clothing other than a suit. But she loved that he went at all, supposing incorrectly that he wanted to stay fit for his job. In fact it had been her interest in him that had made him reinstate an exercise plan at all. He had felt embarrassed about the way his body had seemed to degrade over the past years, his muscles quickly reverting to how they had been during his early undefined teenage years and he certainly hadn't wanted Camille to see him looking like that. Running also suited him. He had never really been a team player at school but exercise had been a necessity in order to join the Force and running was the single man's sport.

While the outburst of chatter from both Dwayne and Fidel kept them occupied, Catherine looked at him and said, "you are about to ask me what I'm doing out and about at 6 o'clock in the morning aren't you Richard?" He cocked his head to one side in acquiesce.

She continued keeping her voice low, "I'm old and I can't sleep so I walk on the beach a lot. I like the morning, the day laid bare before you, life beginning again after the silence of the night. You see all sorts of things early in the morning Richard..." She left the ending open as she walked off and Richard swallowed uncomfortably remembering kissing Camille goodbye in the early hours of the morning, indeed of every morning, so that she could go home and get ready for work. Had Catherine seen anything? And then there was the fact that she had definitely emphasised the word "bare" too. Why would she do that? They had been careful so far, always staying in the shack whenever they...Well not always. There had been a couple of times when they hadn't made it back in time...but there was no way that Catherine would have been anywhere near them. Was there? He shot a glance at Camille who instinctively answered his question with a shrug. She looked equally ill at ease.

It was later when they were all on the verge of leaving the bar for the night when Catherine called out to him from the bar. "Oh Richard, I wanted to talk to you about something." _Here we go_ he thought as he waved the others goodbye. He could see that Camille was hovering by the door trying to keep out of sight but also desperate to know what was going on...

"Catherine." He was nothing if not perfunctory.

She beamed at him. "Richard! It's so nice to see more of you in the bar at the moment. Do you feel that you are settling in more?" She left no time for an answer but continued, "you've been here a long time now haven't you."

His eyes narrowed, trying to work out where she was going with this. "I suppose..."

"But I only ever see you with the team. Aren't you lonely Richard?"

He looked incredibly uncomfortable. "Don't you want to meet someone Richard?" She could see his mind racing, he was a detective – he must realise what she was about to ask him, but by the blank look on his face he apparently had no idea.

"I know a lovely girl, English, just moved here. She doesn't really know anyone and was wondering if you wanted to take her out for a drink? I think it would mean the world to her..."

"Well, I um, err." He could feel the words stick in this throat_. Think of an excuse, man_. _Think of any excuse_. But words failed him.

She winked at him and put her hand on his arm, "I thought you might say that. I've already spoken to her and arranged for you to have a drink with her next week. Isn't that great?" His face had gone ashen. "I'll call her tomorrow to confirm it – unless you don't want to meet her for any reason?"

He was trapped. "No. No. Um, don't want to be rude," he hoped he was coming across as genuine. He tried again and could have kicked himself when he said, "it would be nice to meet her."

"Great. Well have a good night and I'll see you tomorrow." He had seen that look before, it was the same one Camille had had when she had realised that he was powerless against her. Damn it.

"Yup. Night." Then said it again in case she thought he was being too brusque, "night."

Camille shifted out of the way to let him pass and as she did so thought that she caught a look of something that resembled triumph on her mother's face before she turned away, giving her an opportunity to slip after Richard unnoticed.

She found him strolling wearily back to the station and jogged a little catching up with him just as he reached the steps. She waited for him to start speaking, then when he said nothing she said rather impatiently, "so?"

Richard continued to resemble a goldfish for a couple of seconds, not really sure how to begin. "She's set me up on a date," he said helplessly.

Camille's face was a picture of indignation. "What?" He remained silent, knew better than to say anything as she started pacing up and down the road. Silence reigned supreme for a few moments before the storm hit. "Oh, she knows. She's trying to force our hand." She was working herself up into a fury. "This is so typical of her. She doesn't like being left out, has to interfere. She's so annoying!" Her anger left her as soon as it had come, and she found herself sitting on the steps exhausted. He came to sit down next to her. "Why is she doing this?"

Richard didn't know what to do. He thought that she was still too worked up to allow him to hold her but tried it anyway and to his amazement she didn't push him off. It gave him the courage to try and reason with her. "Why don't you just tell her Camille? Surely that's the best option for us. For everyone? I mean it's not as if it would be the end of the world, the Commissioner does know after all."

She nodded at him, it was a movement designed to show him that she understood where he was coming from. But after a while the nod turned into a shake. "I just don't feel ready to share you with anyone yet. I like being able to be with you and not have to put up with people's raised eyebrows or the double meaning of someone shouting "have a good night" at me when we go home..." There was something else she was trying to put into words. "And I know that as soon as we tell Maman, she'll start getting excited about the future, and I don't want that."

"You don't want us to have a future?" He was confused and the familiar feeling of rejection was beginning to envelop him. He mentally chastised himself, he knew that he had been reading too much into their relationship, he should never have let her in.

She moved quickly to reassure him. "No, that's not what I meant. I just don't want her to put pressure on us about having a future."

He gave a small smile. "That's a relief." But the smile vanished and was replaced by panic as he realised what he'd just said. "I mean...about not wanting to share me with anyone yet." _Good save_, he thought. Or not, because she was smiling at him, a look on his face that he couldn't quite decipher, but he was pretty sure that it had something to do with his last comment and the fact that she didn't buy it.

He shifted uncomfortably. "So you still don't want to tell her..."

"Do you mind?"

"You mean do I mind that you are making me lie about being in a relationship with you so that I can go on a blind date with a woman your mother has handpicked for me, meaning that she's probably crazy? Oh no, no. That's totally fine." His attempt at a bad joke to try and lighten the mood only half worked. Camille gave a resigned bark of laughter, then seemed to acknowledge the mess that they were in and half slumped into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He in turn rested his head on hers.

They sat like that in silence for a while before Richard turned his lips towards her head and murmured into her hair. "You know I love you don't you?" She leaned into him further to show that she did. He continued, "it's just I know I'm not very good about saying it as often as you would like."

The hand that was resting on his leg gave a little squeeze of acknowledgement and he tightened his grip around her shoulders saying, "it'll be ok, Camille. I know it will."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to everyone for your very kind reviews so far! **

It was Friday. Date night. Richard had spent the week in a state of constant anxiety. He had been snapping at the team on a daily basis and as Friday night drew ever closer he found his temper almost impossible to control. But the weekend had been glorious. Camille had dragged him off to bed almost as soon as they had left the station and had used every trick in her very extensive book to keep him there. Not that he had complained. He had been a very willing participant, but had suspected that it had been Camille's guilt at her part at their subterfuge that had fuelled her passion.

But, despite his contentment and total serenity, he had woken up on Monday morning with a feeling of horror at what was to come, and the rest of the week had only gotten worse. His nerves had become so frayed that he had also almost confessed to Catherine on several occasions, only just stopping himself when he realised the certain volcanic reaction that the news would elicit from Camille and the damage that he would do to them.

The team hadn't fared any better from Camille's mood swings either. She had veered between rage and frustration all week and had been a nightmare to work with. The quiet spell they had been having in the office hadn't helped matters either given that they had spent the last few days working on mundane office tasks and had generally gotten in each other's way in the station.

That the week had been interminable was an understatement, but Richard felt no relief as he watched the others pack up, leaving both he and Camille sitting in the office. When she was sure that the coast was clear she wandered over to his desk. She felt like she had at the beginning, when she'd had to be soothing, encouraging and loving, treading carefully in order not to scare him away. It had been difficult but she had thought that that awkward phase between them was over. Apparently not.

"Are you alright?"

He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it does." She was hurt that he could think she didn't care.

_Then no, I'm not bloody ok. This is not bloody ok_, but all he could manage was "I'm fine."

"Are you going like that?" She was pointing at his clothes.

He looked down. "Well of course I am. What else did you expect me to wear?

She realised what an idiotic thing it was to have said, she hadn't really been thinking, had just opened her mouth and said the first thing that had come into her head in an effort to fill the silence. She supposed she'd said it because she had gotten used to the fact that he no longer wore suits around her when they were alone. Never jeans, but she had gotten him into the chinos and some linen trousers that he had brought back from home and was surprised to find that they suited him. She had just assumed that he would do the same thing tonight. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." She squatted down by his chair, cradled his face for a few moments and kissed him gently; trying to sooth his nerves away, reinforce the love between them.

"What was that for?" He asked when she finally pulled away.

She seemed sad, "just giving you something to look forward to when you come back to me later."

He stared at her for a moment, but didn't say anything. Instead he touched her cheek once, then got up and walked out of the station.

He was early but he needed a drink to steady his nerves and if he could get there quickly he thought that he might be able to finish it before the date began and order another one. Catherine was already at the bar, which meant he couldn't order anything too strong. Damn. He really wanted a whisky.

She caught sight of him almost at once and called out, "Richard! You are early – I'm very impressed – Camille is always late." The reference caught him off guard somewhat – if she was always late and he was early would that mean that she would think he was keen? Oh God. He felt like he was in the middle of a minefield, he was going to have to tread incredibly carefully if he was going to survive.

He did his best to ignore the comment and got straight to the point. "Gin and tonic please." He knew he was being rude but he honestly didn't feel like he could attempt a conversation with her. Thankfully, she delivered his drink quickly then left to attend to her other patrons; he supposed his manner towards her hadn't been too out of the ordinary after all. Gin wasn't exactly what he wanted either but he hadn't known what else to order, he would have had a pint at home, but there was no bitter, and he couldn't have a beer, he would have to drink it from the bottle - too sexual. Oh God, he was already thinking about sex, this was awful. He took the first gratifying sip of his drink, hoping against hope that it would relax him, then nearly choked when a nearby voice said,

"It doesn't taste the same you know. It's like all things out here. It looks the same, it smells the same but it just doesn't taste the same outside of England. It's the heat I suppose."

He looked around to see a woman in her late 30s, or thereabouts, he wasn't very good with that sort of thing. But she did have shoulder length brown hair and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She was pretty, that he could appreciate; although not as pretty as Camille he thought hurriedly. Alarm bells were already going off in his head and he was praying that the woman standing in front of him wasn't the woman he had been set up with. Camille would blow a fuse when she realised that he mother had set him up with someone that didn't look like the back end of a bus_._

"You must be Richard," she continued smiling at him. He had seemed to have lost the power of speech, so just nodded mutely. "I'm Amy, but given that you're a detective, you probably already knew that."

Richard knew that he was standing there like a lemon but he felt rooted to the spot. With an enormous effort he managed to hold out his hand which she gratefully took, "nice to meet you." He started to say something about a table then thankfully Catherine breezed into view.

"Amy, bon soir. It's so good to see you, how's your father?" They exchanged kisses. "I have a table for you outside." They both followed her, Catherine was chatting away to Amy about her family but Richard couldn't hear anything except a ringing in his ears. He was also beginning to feel himself sweat uncomfortably underneath his jacket despite the earlier heat dissipating. He had to get a grip. He could hear Amy asking for a gin and tonic to match his and was brought back to reality to find that they were both sitting opposite each other, Catherine had seemingly left them alone for now.

Amy was smiling at him again, but it was an embarrassed sort of smile. He surmised that she must hate blind dates as much as he did. She was looking at the table apparently trying to find the right way to begin. She began with the cursory, "thank you for meeting me," then paused, almost unaware of how to continue. "I know it must seem a bit odd meeting someone when you know nothing about them, but I don't really know anyone here and it can be quite lonely." She was apologetic now. "I suppose you're the first Englishman I've really encountered since I've come here. I mean, apart from the tourists, but they don't really stick around long enough to get to know properly. And I also don't really see the point. Why waste time getting to know someone when they are leaving in a week anyway? All anyone seems to be after is a holiday romance anyway."

He had managed half of his drink now. It wasn't strong but the simple act of holding the glass had made him feel more relaxed. She also seemed nice. Almost like being back at home. He hadn't realised how much he'd just missed having a normal conversation with someone with an English accent. And she didn't even seem to mind being with him too much. He had been worried about embarrassing himself with his awkwardness, knew that he was inept with the opposite sex, but he hadn't always been bad. Perhaps it would be easier to get back into the swing of things than he had imagined. But he managed to fluff it when his one word response to her first sentence was, "pleasure," which he realised didn't really make sense when following on from her other conversation.

They both looked away embarrassed at his incompetent attempt at interaction. Amy broke the silence again. "So Catherine tells me you're the Detective Inspector..."

It was safe ground – he could certainly talk about his job. He tried again. "Yes. I was posted here a couple of years ago, meant to help out with a murder case. But you know how these things are, they never really got around to sending me back, so here I am."

He had expected her to comment on how lucky he was, sun sea sand, and all that, but instead she sighed, "God, poor you, I bet all you wanted to do was go home. I know I would, especially if I had to wear a suit for work."

He huffed a little "well technically I don't"

She interjected, "but you do! How on earth could you investigate a crime in shorts and a t-shirt, no one would take you seriously! Can you imagine if the MET wore jeans instead of the usual blue – there would be uproar on the streets!"

He could feel his earlier stress lift a little. "You try telling people that! Honestly, the entire island thinks that I wear these for fun," he pointed at his suit, "but the truth is that I only came out here with a small bag, I had two suits and a week's worth of shirts and ties. I spent the first year living in those clothes, and by the time I was able to get more, wearing the suits had sort of become a trade mark I suppose, so it felt odd to take them off...the heats a real killer though."

"Yes I can imagine." She laughed.

He was beginning to warm to the conversation, and she seemed to be taking an interest which was always a good sign. Perhaps he could do this after all, it wasn't all that hard to pretend that he was still single, and it was what Camille wanted. And technically he hadn't lied to her, Catherine had set up the date and she had assumed he was single. He wasn't the bad guy.

"And so, you live here now?"

Yes, just down the road, in the most ramshackle little beach house you can imagine. I even have a tree growing through the middle of it. But somehow it's become home, I can't really imagine myself anywhere else now, even if I hate the sand...

"You hate the sand?"

He gave her a look that told her it wasn't quite true..."Well I don't hate it so much – I used to, everything's so different from London, I just wasn't really used to it, and no one really seems to get my sense of humour."

"Let me guess, very dry and sarcastic?" He frowned as if to ask her how she knew that and she by way of a retort she replied, "aren't we all?"

He nodded, finally someone on his wavelength. "Anyway, when I said I hated the sand I sort of meant it as a joke, but given that everyone thought I was being serious I now have a reputation for being a bureaucratic killjoy who hates everything about fun including being at the beach.

She suppressed a giggle. "The stereotypical English bobby, always on duty, never having fun." He smiled and she saw his glass was empty. "Another drink?"

_Well why not _he thought, and it was then that he knew he was in danger because if Camille found out how much he was enjoying himself he knew that there would be trouble. But it was nice to have someone besides her that he could talk to...


	5. Chapter 5

She couldn't help it, she had to be at the bar, had to see what was going on. She knew she was only going to torture herself but she was already doing that by being on her own in the station imagining their date, so what difference would her being there actually make?

She saw Dwayne and Fidel at their usual table and went to join them. Damn, it had a perfect view of the veranda. And a perfect view of...she groaned. The woman sitting opposite Richard was very pretty. Just the type of woman that she knew he would have been interested in, in the past. She knew he shouldn't have come, at least at the station she could have pretended that his date was hideously deformed in some way.

Dwayne and Fidel shifted uncomfortably, before Dwayne gave her a reassuring nod and said "Don't worry Camille, we've been keeping an eye on him and he's behaving himself."

She tried to feign indifference, only to be met with raised eyebrows. There could be no doubt as to their meaning. Camille was incredulous. "You know? You both know?"

They looked slightly embarrassed, "erm, yeah. We thought you knew?" There was a short lull and then, "it's been pretty obvious."

"Has it?"

"Well you've both been pretty on edge this week for starters..."

She chastised herself, had thought they had been so careful, but knew that he was right, that the tension between them over the past week had been palpable, and in no way could be passed off as creative differences between colleagues. She was beginning to see how ridiculous it was that they were trying to pretend that they weren't together, and now she had pushed Richard into having a date with a very pretty woman who was just his type and English to boot. She moved her head a little so that she could see them. They looked as though they were enjoying themselves. She felt sick. She could see that they were both shy, but Richard looked happy, he was smiling at her, and what was worse was that she was giggling at him, a hand covering her mouth in what, she thought nastily, was a pathetic attempt at flirting. He would never fall for that, would he? She could feel the bottom of her stomach fall away and began to think that she was losing him. They were so different after all, chalk and cheese. Perhaps they had only been together because he hadn't been able to find anyone more suitable. Her vision was beginning to blur and her breathing was coming in short bursts. She knew that she was in danger of crying and had to get away before anyone saw. She stumbled from the table.

The sudden movement caught Richard's eye and he caught a glimpse of Camille. She didn't look happy. She also looked as though she wasn't sticking around. He was so unnerved that he dropped his glass which had only the remains of his drink left in it on the table and it overturned, the ice spilling out across the table and onto his shirt.

"Bugger. I'm sorry. I'll go and tidy myself up and get us some more drinks. Same again?" She nodded and he made his way in to the bar as quickly as he could.

He found her tucked down the corridor that lead to the flat above the bar and put the empty glasses down on a nearby table. "Camille?" She didn't look at him. "Are you ok?" He was confused. It looked like she was upset, but he couldn't understand why she would be given that she was the one who had pressed him into this. "Is it something I've done?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine." She blinked away the tears before he could see them in the gloom. Despite her assurances he wasn't still convinced – _was that sarcasm?_ He came towards her.

"You know you have nothing to worry about don't you. She...she pales in comparison next to you." He went to kiss her, to show her that there was no one else, but she pushed him away, panicked that her cheeks were wet with tears.

"Richard I'm fine. You don't honestly think I'm jealous do you?" Her vulnerability had given way to aggression and her slight left him feeling uneasy. Why wouldn't she be jealous? Did she think that no one else would find him attractive?

He took a step back from her "Oh. Fine, I mean, of course. Well, it was, just so you, um, know anyway." He was desperately trying to think of the right thing to say, to comfort her, but in his own emotionally inept way said the one thing that reminded her that he was spending the evening with another woman "I should probably get back...don't want your mother to think that I'm, you know...ignoring Amy." She nodded her ascent and as he picked up the glasses and headed back to the bar, the tears began to fall again.

Back at the table, after handing Amy her drink he asked her "So what are you doing on the island?"

"I grew up here." Of all the responses she could have given, he was not expecting that. His expression clearly gave him away so she continued, "my mum and dad used to live here. Well my dad still lives here. Mum moved back to the UK a while ago and we went with her."

"We?"

"I have a brother. A twin actually. We used to come back here in our school holidays but we never really met anyone our own age because we weren't here for long enough. I suppose it would have been different if we weren't twins, but we've always been close so didn't really want to be friends with anyone else. It's a shame really, I kind of wish that we had been made to mix with people a bit more, it would have made the move here so much easier.

"You really don't know anyone despite the fact that your dad lives here?"

"Pathetic isn't it."

"No. Just surprising. Why move somewhere you don't know anyone." He thought that he would have had to work harder at making conversation but it was actually surprisingly easy.

She considered what to say for a moment. "My company back in London has an office over here so I thought it might be nice to come out and spend some time with my dad, make sure that he has everything he needs." She seemed uncomfortable for a moment, before she pulled herself together. "School holidays were a long time ago and we don't get out here as much as we used to. It just seems a little unfair that we've spent so much time with mum I want to do the same with Dad before..." She trailed off again. "Anyway the time difference didn't exactly make it easy to stay in touch with him either." Richard nodded in agreement at that but got the impression that she wasn't telling him something.


	6. Chapter 6

Catherine was looking worried. This wasn't exactly how she was expecting the evening to go. He had arrived exactly as she thought he would, nervous, uptight and panicked. She thought he would crack within 5 minutes, thought that it was going to be easy. But then Amy had appeared and the evening had taken a slightly different turn of events and she couldn't for the life of her work out why. But he had become different, normal even. Obviously he was still vaguely uptight, and definitely not the life and soul of the party but he was someone that she could imagine having a proper conversation with, someone she could see Camille with.

She glanced over at Camille. As soon as it had become obvious that Richard was enjoying himself she had decided to keep a low profile. She could see the effect that it was having on her daughter and didn't want to rub the fact that it was her fault in her face any more than she already had. That Camille was upset was an understatement and the fact that it was down to her, even more so. She had thought that their little trip away from the tables earlier would have sorted things out between them but Richard had appeared moments later looking perplexed but otherwise normal. Camille less so. It was obvious to her mother that she had been crying – how on earth had Richard not picked up on it? And now she was sitting on her own (Dwayne and Fidel had moved once they realised that Camille would be better left to her own devices) playing with her phone, occasionally glancing up at the couple sitting outside. It was breaking Catherine's heart to see her daughter so miserable.

She wondered if there was anything she could do to make it better. The truth was she had picked Amy because she had thought he would get flustered by her. She was a pretty girl, outgoing and charming. All the things that Richard was not. But she could see now that she had underestimated their ability to bond over the simple pleasure of being from the same country. Perhaps she hadn't done enough to introduce Richard to more people on the island, to try and integrate him a little more. He had been there for over two years now and had only ever socialised with her and the team. But then every time she had suggested doing something that would help him get to know people, he had baulked. And now she had given him an opportunity to talk to someone about home. And idiotically she had chosen someone very pretty.

"Who's that girl over there?" He knew which one she was pointing at without having to look over. She continued, "very pretty, black corkscrew hair. She keeps looking over at us."

"I don't know," he wasn't a very convincing liar and he knew it.

"You liar! You know exactly who she is, you didn't even bother look at her." She tried some friendly teasing, "come on, is she your ex-girlfriend? Or is she your secret stalker?" She looked over at Camille and laughed. Richard went beetroot, and Amy did some quick backpedalling. "Oh God she is, isn't she? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

Richard thought that he was going to have to tell her, she was too sweet to lie to. And who knew, if he ever got out of this mess it would be nice to have a friend on the island, he didn't want to alienate her completely. "Um. Oh God this is awkward, she's, um, she's actually my girlfriend."

There was silence then a flurry of questions which culminated in, "why didn't you tell me that you had a girlfriend? I've just told you that I want to meet people, it's not as if I would have run a mile... then the strangeness of the situation seemed to dawn on her and she asked, "so...why is she watching us?"

"It's complicated. I don't really know where to begin..."

"Richard, I've lived in London all my life, my mother has traipsed boyfriends through our front door since I was a teenager, all of it has been very complicated so just tell me, otherwise I'll imagine something sordid. What is it?"

He gave her a look that said there was nothing sordid about their situation and said, "she's Catherine's daughter." He assumed that this would clarify the situation for her.

"Right..." She needed more to go on than that.

He seemed a little put out to have to explain more to her, "well, we haven't exactly told her about us yet, and I suppose this is Catherine's way of trying to get us out in the open."

"But you don't want to."

He gave her an exasperated look, "why does everyone think it's me...it's not me, it's her...Do you really think that I would be with a woman that beautiful and not want to tell people?"

"Point taken."

"Ouch, but thanks."

She smiled and countered, "I don't know why you're so upset. I've just found out that I've been set up on a fake date with a man who already has a girlfriend - I'm essentially a pawn in Catherine's scheming, so if anyone should be feeling upset at the moment, it's me."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, sorry about that"

She smiled. "Don't be, I haven't actually met anyone new for ages, its felt good to get out and about again. And to be fair I don't think you and I would really have made a great couple would we?"

"Thanks again." She giggled.

When she stopped she looked over at Camille again. "You know she's not happy don't you Richard."

He nodded solemnly, "yes, but I don't really know what to do. She doesn't want to tell her mother which means that I can't end this," he indicated between the two of them, "early and I can't go over there and comfort her, no matter how much I want to. I'm in a Catch 22."

She sucked on her straw thoughtfully whilst finishing her drink. She finally asked, "What's the most important thing to you at the moment?"

He didn't hesitate. "Making Camille happy."

"Well then, I would suggest that we leave it here for tonight, and you go and do that. We can always have another drink in the future – the three of us. It would be nice to meet the elusive Camille."

"Are you sure? I feel as though I'm being a monumental arse, arranging drinks then leaving half way through..."

"Well, technically you didn't arrange this; you were pressured into it by your girlfriend's mother in an attempt to sabotage your relationship..."

"Touché".

She raised her glass and her eyebrow in acknowledgement. "I've really enjoyed tonight Richard, but I won't be able to sleep easy knowing that I've caused a problem between the two of you. It doesn't sit right with me." He nodded, it didn't take much to persuade him. She stood. "Well then." She crossed over to his side of the table and he held out his hand, which she took. To his surprise she also planted a kiss on his cheek.

As she turned to leave, something about her earlier conversation finally slotted into place and he called after her, "Oh Amy?" She looked back and he said quietly, "I hope your dad gets better soon."

"Thank you." She smiled shyly and walked out, calling briefly over her shoulder, "and let me know when you want to do that other drink!"

Richard nodded in reply then followed her into the bar to find Camille.


	7. Chapter 7

He found her staring forlornly at the table. Catherine was thankfully nowhere to be seen and the boys had also had the good sense to leave. The bar still had some customers but they didn't seem to be paying any particular attention to him, he surmised that he was safe (for now) from prying eyes and eavesdropping. All he wanted to do was to climb into bed with Camille and forget about the evening, to tell her that he loved her and perhaps show her, if she would let him. He was therefore hopeful when he walked up to her and asked, "can we go home now?"

All hopes of his latter thoughts faded immediately though when she pushed her chair away from the table and started back for the corridor they had met in earlier. He followed calling after her, "Camille? Camille!" When she finally turned around he looked at her in confusion and said "are we staying here?"

"No, _I_ am staying here. _You_ are going home." Who the hell did he think he was to come over to her after he had been flirting with another woman all evening and demand to be taken home like a bored child? Did he have any idea what he had put her through?

"What are you talking about? Camille, don't be stupid, come on." She was furious. Of course she was, had he really, honestly expected anything else?

"I'm being stupid?" Her voice raised a couple of notches. "I've just had to watch you flirt your way through a date with someone _my mother_ set you up with, and I'm being stupid?"

He could see that it was going to be a struggle keeping this particular fight contained, he was grateful that they were no longer at the table, although he still had no idea why it was his fault that she was upset. This was what she wanted. He tried to calm her down. "Fine, not stupid but you are being a bit hasty with your judgement...and I wasn't flirting. You don't even know what we were talking about."

"I don't need to know what you were talking about Richard. All I do know is that you clearly really liked her."

"Yes, she was nice..." then judging from her expression, he realised that that might not have been the right thing to say, added quickly, "but I would have much rather been with you all evening."

"Really Richard? At what moment during your date were you thinking about me? Perhaps it was when she looked over and laughed at me or maybe it was when she kissed you, or perhaps when she told you to call her?"

He wasn't very good at determining sarcasm from her, although he was pretty good at dishing it out, but he certainly got that. "What? We weren't laughing at you – why on earth would we laugh at you?"

"We? So you're a _we_ now?"

He threw his hands up in the air. "Of course not. Now you're being ridiculous."

"Don't you dare call me ridiculous."

Reasoning with her when she was like this was clearly not an option and they were very quickly heading towards a full scale blow out argument, which would make their relationship blatantly clear to anyone within ear shot of them. He tried to keep his voice down, but his annunciation made it clear that he was frustrated. "I don't have another word for you when you are like this. The idea that you could lump me in to some sort of liaison with a woman I've known for an hour is absurd. And we were categorically not laughing at you."

"Oh, what were you laughing about then?" She was defiant and the sheepish look that appeared on his face and then disappeared within a millisecond did nothing to dispel her fear. Her voice went up a notch again both in volume and in pitch. "Do you even realise that you were flirting with her?" He was staring at her, unable to believe that Camille, incredible, beautiful, strong and vibrant Camille was insecure enough about them to have constructed a fictional slant on the evening's earlier events. His mouth dropped open and all he could do was stare at her. She looked triumphant. "You don't even have the decency to deny it."

He was being pushed to the limit. "I shouldn't need to deny it because you should trust me a little more."

"I do trust you Richard, but I don't like the idea of being cheated on, especially when it's happening in front of my face."

"How could I possibly cheat on you with a woman I met at a bar, especially when you've been watching us all evening? Anyway, you've been the one that keeps pretending that we're not in a relationship."

"No I haven't."

He finally lost his temper. "Oh, for Christ's sake Camille. You don't want anyone to know about us; you make me go on a date with another woman; then you stalk me the entire time I'm on the date. Oh and by the way you couldn't have been more obvious about that than if you'd tried. You want to know what she was laughing about? That's what she was laughing about. She thought that you were my ex and that you were spying on me. When she found out you were my girlfriend she was actually bloody magnanimous about the whole thing considering that she's basically been dragged on a massive time wasting exercise by your mother. She even agreed to cut the date short so that I could spend some time with you. But a fat lot of good that's done, all you want to do is run away from me. From us."

Camille was used to him losing his temper but never like this. All she could manage was, "she knows too?"

"Of course she knows – I hadn't told her that I was single, she'd just assumed. I know you don't want anyone to know that we're together but when I'm asked a direct question from a girl whose been set up on a wild goose chase of a date by your mother, then I don't exactly feel comfortable lying. Even if you do."

"So you told her?"

Something niggled at him and he backed up a little. "Wait, you said knows too." Now it was her time to look sheepish. "Camille, who else knows?"

There was no point lying now. She was pretty sure it was all going to come out soon. "Dwayne and Fidel."

"Dwayne and Fidel know?" He bellowed so loudly that it startled her a little. "How the hell do Dwayne and Fidel know?" She had heard him swear a little, she had always found it endearing because it was so quintessentially English. But hearing him shout at her like this made him sound callous and only highlighted how angry he was.

"Don't you dare shout at me Richard. And I don't know how they know. I guess they just do. You haven't exactly been subtle."

"_I_ haven't been subtle? _I _haven't been..." he was exasperated. "...so this is my fault? You're the one that has been stalking me for the entire evening; you couldn't even leave me alone for an hour. And _I'm _the one who hasn't been subtle. Jesus, Camille do you have any idea what you've just put me through, all so that you can lie to your mother. _Your mother_! The one person who should actually be happy for us and you don't want to tell her!

"Why would you want to be left alone for an hour Richard? What would you have done?"

"Oh for God's..." He took a deep breath and ran both his hands through his hair. "Nothing, Camille. I wouldn't have done anything."

"So you're saying you didn't find her attractive?"

"Yes that's exactly what I'm saying."

There was silence between the two of them. She knew that she had gone too far this time, but didn't really know how to rectify the situation. She made a cack-handed attempt to make it right before it was too late, but the words seemed childish to her. "It just seemed like you were happy talking to her."

"I _was_ happy talking to her Camille." Then stopped, he knew that this line of conversation could start her off again. "Why would you think that I wouldn't be happy talking to someone?"

She shrugged, almost too embarrassed to talk. "I don't know. I guess I'm just so used to you being happy with me and irritable with everyone else that it's just strange to see you actually smiling at someone without jumping to conclusions."

He was beginning to understand why she was so upset. After all, if the roles had been reversed he knew that he would have been just as angry. "I didn't realise I was being different. I just. It's just..." He gathered his thoughts and tried again, had to try again even if he didn't want to, he knew she liked it when he told her things he would never admit to anyone else. "It was just nice to be able to talk to someone who understands where I come from. Who I am. I hardly know anyone out here, and I know I didn't socialise a lot with anyone back in London but I never felt alone because I never had anyone to show me what it felt like to be loved. And now I have, all I can think about is how lonely I am when I'm not with you. And its fine at the moment, but in a year or two or five are you really still going to want to be spending every waking moment with me? I need to get to know new people. People we can be friends with. I'm sorry that you thought, you know... Camille? I really am..."

She found it adorable that he wanted to try so badly to please her and looked at him, realisation finally dawning on her. "You feel lonely?"

"Yes. No." He was embarrassed. "A bit. Just...just when I'm not with you – I just want you to feel like you don't have to look after me anymore. So, if it's ok with you, perhaps I can get to know a few people?"

She managed a small smile. He took it as a yes.

"And perhaps some of those people could be English and also female?" His face had already scrunched itself up, ready for a slap that never came. Instead she pretended to scowl at him.

"Don't push your luck..."

He moved closer, took her in his arms and held her for a few moments before his lips found her cheek and kissed their way down towards her mouth. He was afraid that she would push him away after the way he had spoken to her, but it was a shy and slow and nervous kiss. Both were worried about the damage they had inflicted on the other. But after a few moments Camille began to realise that her anger had been nothing more than empty emotion and was rapidly being replaced by relief and lust. Her hands roamed up his chest and around his neck trying to pull him closer to make sure that he wouldn't back off, but he pulled away, remembering that her mother was loitering around somewhere. He wanted her to know about them, but he certainly didn't want her to see them like this. She mourned the loss of his lips against hers, tried to pull him back. He was trying in vain to fight her off laughing, "Camille, your mother will see..."

She moved in closer and he caught the words "I don't care" before her lips met his again.


	8. Chapter 8

He pulled away again for the second time in order to catch his breath and to calm down, he knew, or rather he hoped he knew where this was rapidly heading. He stood opposite her, locking her against the wall, their temples pressed together and lungs heaving. When their heart rates had calmed down sufficiently he looked down and caught sight of a flash of red at her shoulder. The glimpse was sufficient enough to quicken his pulse again. He managed to mumble "um Camille...is that new underwear?"

She was giggling as she gave him her most seductive look at him from beneath her lashes, "maybe..."

He groaned, wasn't sure how much more of her teasing he could take. He knew he was whining when he asked her, no begged her again if they could go home, but he didn't care. If she said no, he decided that he would carry her upstairs – there had to be a spare room, but thankfully she giggled again and nodded. As she did so she looked up and caught the movement of someone at the end of the corridor.

She stiffened. "Maman."

Richard immediately straightened himself up and away from her, he knew it was too late for them to pretend that they weren't together, the fact that her leg was still bent against the wall enabling him to press himself closer to her was a bit of a giveaway, but he didn't want to embarrass Camille any more than he already had. To his surprise though, she made a grab for his hand and held on to it keeping him close.

They both looked exceptionally self conscious at being caught. Neither one could bring themselves to look Catherine in the eye and Richard, Catherine realised was actually studying his feet very intently, like a child would. She wondered idly if this habit had been developed whilst at school, but then dismissed the idea as she couldn't actually imagine him ever being in any trouble. She had known that Richard would act this way, had expected it, but she was slightly perplexed by Camille's behaviour. She had thought that she would have brazened it out with her usual defiance rather than with embarrassment. After all, it hadn't been the first time she had caught her daughter kissing a boy...clearly elements of Richard were rubbing off on her.

Catherine sighed. She knew that if she wanted to get anything out of them at all then she would have to be the one to break the silence, it was clear from both of their stances that they wished she would just go away so that they could pretend nothing had happened. She addressed Richard, because she thought it would make for a better reaction.

"Inspector."

He turned his head towards her and managed to meet her eyes briefly and could see that she was trying not to laugh. He cleared his throat quickly and returned the acknowledgement then went back to looking at his shoes. "Catherine."

She had a twinkle in her eye as she addressed both of them. "Well I can see you still want to pretend that nothing's going on between you. So how about I go back to the bar and you can finish your little tryst in the dark like teenagers, and when you're ready you  
can come out and join me for a drink, like adults?

She turned on her heel and waltzed off leaving them both completely speechless.

Richard hadn't realised he had been holding his breath. He exhaled in a long breath and fully turned around, leaning back on the wall he had just been facing. Camille had finally snapped out of the inertia that her mother had instilled in her and had her hands over her face. Richard was having difficulty trying to judge her emotions so put a hand of his own up to try and bring her arms back down to her side. To his astonishment he found that she was giggling uncontrollably, he released her hands which went straight back to her mouth in an effort to stifle the noise she was making.

Richard could only stare at her incredulously. "Why are you laughing?"

She continued to giggle but managed to stop long enough to string a sentence together, "oh God, it's not funny, I don't know why I'm laughing..." His look clearly said it all, she stopped for a moment trying to think of the best way to tell him, amazed that he didn't already know...She indicated in the general direction of his waist, "um, you know..."

Richard's hands flew to his belt, worried that in the heat of the moment Camille had managed to get it undone but found that it was all as it should be. He continued to look completely clueless and Camille giggled again. "Richard couldn't bring yourself to look at my mother."

"Neither could you." He couldn't understand for the life of him what was so funny about that.

"I know but you didn't even face her..."

"I couldn't! I... Oh God." Realisation dawned on him. He scrunched his eyes closed, and rubbed his forehead, mortified, trying to rid himself of the very recent memory and hoped to God that Catherine was more naïve than her daughter – he somehow doubted it given the look he had received from her. When he came back to reality Camille was clicking her fingers in front of his face trying to get his attention.

"When you've stopped feeling sorry for yourself, do you think you're ready to go out and face the music or should I give you another couple of minutes." She teased.

He levelled her with a look. "Do you really think I need them after having your mother glare at me like a naughty school boy?"

"I don't know – you seem to like it when I do it..."

"That is totally different!" He spluttered, which only set her off giggling again. Knowing it was useless to try and get through to her when she was like this he started towards the bar, pausing at the entrance just out of sight so that she could catch up. She gave him a small smile, and passed him, taking hold of his hand again as she led him out. And although public displays of affection usually made him feel very self conscious, he realised that perhaps for the first time it felt strangely comforting. Perhaps he was the type of man who could hold his girlfriend's hand in public after all.


	9. Chapter 9

Catherine was waiting for them at the table with two beers. She indicated to the bottles, "I'm sorry Richard, I didn't think you would you want tea..." He nodded and amongst the chatter and lights of the bar began to feel like he was able to at least attempt to string a sentence together in her presence again. Given that his last drink now felt like it had been a very long time ago and he needed some Dutch courage – although for very different reasons this time - he picked up the bottle and took a swig.

Catherine was still looking at them mischievously. "So...is there anything you want to tell me?" They both looked at each other. Richard scratched his cheek in embarrassment again. He was at a loss for what to say or do. He hadn't ever really been put on the spot like this. His parents had never taken an interest in his love life, not that there had ever been anyone serious enough to introduce them to, just flings and fumbles really, certainly no one as important as Camille.

She caught the look between them and decided to cut to the chase, "you know, you should be more careful with the text messages you send Richard." Another look between them, this time Richard narrowed his eyes and cocked his head at Camille, who shrugged and offered up a puzzled look, which then cleared as she remembered the night her mother had asked about Richard coming home. Her mother vocalised her thoughts, "You caught an earlier ferry..."

"Is that the only thing that gave the game away Catherine?" He was trying to gloss over the incident with the phone, worrying that she might have had a chance to scroll through some of the text messages that Camille had sent him prior to that. Oh God please no...he really would die of embarrassment if she started talking about those. He had told Camille time and time again not to send anything so intimate. It wasn't that he didn't like receiving them, he just felt uncomfortable about the possible repercussions that they opened them both up to if anyone else ever read them. He had taken to telling her that it was pointless to send them to him as he deleted them straight away, but the fact was that he couldn't quite bring himself to get rid of them. He loved reading them in those moments when he wasn't allowed to touch her: on the interminable afternoons at the station when there were no cases to work on, or when he was on his own at home.

"No, I've had my suspicions for some time, and of course the commissioner confirmed it..." she saw the look of outrage on Richard's face and cut in before he could start ranting about unprofessional conduct in the work environment, "not in so many words obviously Richard, but I have known him a long time, and know when he is hiding something..." Richard huffed.

He was still muttering to himself so she tried to smooth his ruffled feathers, "no matter what you think, Richard, I am very happy for you both." Richard looked at his drink embarrassed to be privy to such an overt display of maternal affection that enveloped them both and contented himself with studying the label on his beer bottle intently. Then realised what she was implying as she continued, "you know, all this sneaking around was totally unnecessary, I wouldn't have told anyone..."

"Yes, I know, erm, sorry." He was trying to be gallant to protect Camille and save Catherine from being hurt. His words gave very little away but his tone unintentionally implied that there was more to the situation than he cared to discuss. Catherine looked at Camille who had begun to squirm uncomfortably in her chair. They might not have been as close as they had been over the past couple of months but Catherine suddenly knew without a shadow of a doubt that it had been her not Richard who hadn't wanted to tell her.

Camille saw the hurt in her mother's eyes and knew it was time to come clean. "Maman, I'm sorry..."

Catherine shook her head but couldn't quite find the words she needed to tell her daughter that it was alright. She saw Richard slip away from the table out of the corner of her eye, muttering to himself about getting some water, intent on giving them some much needed time. She smiled at her daughter and shrugged, it was intended to alleviate the tension between them but Camille suddenly felt as though she were five again. She knew that she had hurt her mother deeply by shutting her out of her life if only for a few months, effectively mirroring the beginning of her father's actions when he had left them. She desperately wanted to be able to climb into her mother's lap, wrap her arms around her and tell her that she was still the most important person in her life. But the truth of the matter was that she was no longer able to do that.

"Maman, I really am sorry. I just wanted things to be different this time. I really want this one to work. I really like him."

"Just like?"

"I love him."

"Oh Cherie, that's wonderful!" Catherine reached over the table and took her daughter's hands. "Is that why you wanted it to be different – because you love him?"

She nodded. "Yes, sort of. I didn't want to scare him off with the gossip. He takes his job so seriously Maman, I thought he would leave me if anyone else knew."

"I highly doubt that would have happened Camille. You can tell just by looking at him how much he loves you."

Camille shrugged. "I know, but he's not exactly the most tactile man in the world, or at least he never used to be and I was so worried about losing him that I didn't want to involve anyone else." She paused. "I wanted to tell you at the start but..." She struggled, at a loss as to how to explain this to her mother. "Do you remember how we used to sit here and dissect every date I went on, what he wore, where he took me, even how long it took for him to kiss me?" Her mother nodded. "Can you imagine doing that with Richard? Can you imagine if he ever found out that we had talked about him like that? How embarrassed he would have been? He would have shut down completely, he trusts me so much and if he ever thought that I had done something like that he wouldn't have been able to cope, he would have thought we were laughing at him. I just wanted to try and make my own decisions for once. I just wanted it to be us. We spent so long building up to this that I didn't want to ruin it." Camille could see that Richard was fidgeting by the bar. She hoped that she had explained it well enough for her mother to understand, she didn't want him to feel like he was being gossiped about. She caught his eye and motioned for him to come back.

Catherine continued. "It doesn't matter cherie. I'm just relieved to see that you two have made up." Then turning to Richard, "I wasn't sure if you were going to make it out of the bar alive Richard. Who knew you had such strong seduction techniques..." He panicked and looked over at Camille, but she was only shaking her head at him fondly, and he realised that Catherine had been poking fun at him. He should have picked up on it, they were so damn similar. He decided to ignore the jibe.

"For the record Catherine, I thought what you did was cruel."

"On her or you?" She asked playfully.

His look said everything it needed to.

"I'm sorry, but I like seeing my little girl in charge, and I'm sure you'll make it up to her tonight judging by that kiss you gave her back there..." She was biting her lips to stop herself from openly laughing at him and Richard stared at the table, willing his cheeks to stop burning, or at least for Camille to come to his rescue. For someone who hadn't wanted to tell her mother about them she was doing a pretty good job at being complicit in her teasing.

"Maman, please!" She had felt compelled to intervene, given the imploring look she had been subjected to during her mother's gentle teasing.

"You're right, I'm sorry." Perhaps you won't even get home – you know your room is still available here if you want it..." Catherine burst into laughter again as Camille rolled her eyes and Richard's cheeks burned an even fiercer red as he realised that her words had mirrored his exact thoughts from ten minutes ago.

"Camille..." She knew he wanted to go home, that he had reached the end of his tether and needed to escape the latest horror of the evening. She gave an imperceptible nod of her head, then addressed her mother. "We should be going maman..."

"So soon? It's 8 'clock. Why do you need to go...oh." For all her teasing she had forgotten that they might actually want to spend some time together.

Richard was already out of his chair at Camille's suggestion and waiting for her to join him, without bothering to listen to Catherine's reply. Camille raised an eyebrow at him and Catherine caught his usual look as he half mouthed the words "what now?" at her and realised that some things at least would never change.

"Goodnight Richard." It was said in such a way that it served to remind him that she knew what they were about to get up to and his blush returned with a vengeance before mumbling goodnight in return.

Camille kissed her mother goodbye and as she was leaving her mother whispered something in her ear.

"Maman!" Richard's head snapped back around, certain he'd missed something important, Catherine was trying in vain to smother her laughter, it was all he could do to look on and try and work out what the hell was going on.

Camille scooped him up on her way out of the bar and it finally began to dawn on Richard what had passed between mother and daughter. "Please tell me she didn't just say what I think she did..."

"You don't want to know."


	10. Chapter 10

She was making her way along the beach. She was early, but knew that both of them would be up, so had no qualms about disturbing them as she made her way towards the shack.

She could see that Richard was already on the veranda, sitting on a chair with a tea in front of him on the table. He was so predictable! Still, at least she knew that she wouldn't interrupt anything this time. She was still a little way away, next to the tree line and he hadn't yet seen her, was engrossed in his book. He looked different, even at a distance, and even though the change was obvious she still took a little time to work out what it was, before she realised. He was dressed in shirt sleeves, the tie and jacket, were nowhere to be seen. She wasn't even sure if the look suited him as it was so unexpected.

She was about to wave to him but held off as she could see that something had caught his eye and stopped to watch as Richard put his book down and turned in his chair as Camille came through the open doors to his right. She was wearing cut off denim shorts and a white shirt, the bottom buttons of which were undone revealing a little of her toned stomach. She came towards him smiling, held his head in-between both of her hands and placed a gentle kiss in his hair. His hands rested lightly on her waist then moved to draw her closer to him, encircling her with his arms. His face was against her bare stomach now, the shirt pushed to one side, covering it gently with kisses while she gazed down at him, her hands still caressing the back of his neck. He paused for a moment and then drew his hands from her back, running one down her body until it came to rest on the back of her thigh, where her shorts met her skin, the other moved around to her waist again, his thumb stroking her abdomen lightly. He paused, looking adoringly at the flat expanse of skin then moved to kiss her one last time, slipping his right hand to mirror the one already on her thigh, looking up at her with a lop sided smile, then pulled her giggling onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him into a kiss.

"Mmmmmm." She broke away then watched with amusement as Richard picked up his book to finish the chapter she had just interrupted. He was already engrossed when she gave a contented sigh. "I love you."

"Good." Without breaking his concentration he offered up his cheek for a kiss, oblivious to what she had just said.

She raised her eyebrows. "Richard...I love you..." Silence. She tried again, "do you love me?"

"No. Shh." She wrestled the book from his hands and hit him gently over the head with it. "Ow."

"Do you love me Richard?" She hit him again.

"It's no less painful the second time you know," She gave him a thin lipped smirk and started to try and hit him repeatedly as he put his hands up in front of him to ward off some of the blows.

"Why don't you love me?" She stuck her bottom lip out at him when she had finished hitting him.

"Because you never let me finish my chapter, Camille, it is the most infuriating thing in the world! And to make matters worse, you are intent on beating me to a pulp. How can I love a woman that takes such delight in giving me a sound thrashing?" He tried to make a grab for his book again and muttered "husband beater" under his breath.

It was out of his reach and when he turned to her to demand it back he found that she was grinning inanely at him. "What?"

"You said husband beater, Richard"

He had the beginnings of a blush at the corner of his cheeks but he tried to pretend that he didn't know what she was referring to, "so..."

Are you planning on asking me to marry you?

"Well I'm not going to ask you now, am I?"

"Why not?"

"Because you're mother's going to be here soon..."

"Yes in half an hour!" She pouted and he shook his head in exasperation. She looked as though she was going to say something else so he silenced her with a kiss.

When he pulled away she could see that his smile had widened and was playful, his eyes bright. Despite this he still managed to look bashful, "so we have half an hour..."

"No. Richard," her tone was teasing, his name elongated by the anticipation and excitement of what she knew was coming.

She had already scrambled off his knee and was backing away from him, trying to escape to the beach. He faked a sudden move, designed to get her to make a break for it, and she dashed past the table and down the steps squealing with the thrill of it as she hit the sand, making for the safety of the sea. It brought to his mind the last time that they had done this, where she had managed to outrun him and reach her sanctuary. He was determined not to let that happen again. He followed her quickly, was faster this time, his bare feet giving him more traction on the sand. He caught her just before she hit the surf, grabbing her arm and spinning her around into him. She gave in, allowed herself to be kissed, responded for a moment, before pushing him off, trying to run, giggling again.

But he still had hold of her wrists and in one movement had locked them both behind her back, while she was wriggling and squealing to be let go. He half carried her, half steered her back towards the house in this position foiling every one of her attempts to break free, her vocal dissent only falling silent when he had thrown her on to the bed and covered her mouth with his.

In the quiet that followed, Catherine realised that she was finally able to move freely again. She had spent the last five minutes frozen in the tree line worried that any movement would draw attention to her being there and she certainly hadn't wanted to attract attention to herself, not this time. She would much rather not have witnessed that at all. The whole episode had made her feel uncomfortably voyeuristic, although at least she could see that Camille was happy and happier than Catherine could ever have wished her to be.

With a little smile she decided that perhaps she should give them a little more time to get ready before her visit, she was very early as it was. She could buy them breakfast. Gingerly moving her stiff joints, she turned on her heels and made her way back along the beach to the town wondering idly why Richard had been paying so much attention to her stomach...Camille couldn't be...could she? Perhaps they had taken her comment to heart after all. She was in the middle of laying another plan when she chastised herself. No. If there was anything in his action, she would just wait for them to tell her this time. She hoped it would be soon.


End file.
